Bad Poetry Seeds From 7/31/11

first seed:
where’s our recovery?
where’s our Change…
for the better, I mean?
election year after
election year
we pray for relief
and the faces change 
but their owners 
remain the same.
their owners are never us.
so why pray? so why hope?
sometimes it’s all we have –
the vague chance of a political cuckoo
in the nest.
promises the money men,
takes their poisoned funds
and do a kamikaze run
on the powers that be
no hope of re-election 
but what a glorious death run
on the powered elite.
exploding perceptions 
and expectations
no hope of a return engagement
four years slash and burn 
on our moneyed tyrants
Sherman’s March for the Free…
“They lied to us”
the greedheads will cry
and the people will proclaim,
with one mighty voice,
“How does it feel, fuckers?”


second seed:
This is adapted from an ancient Celtic connachlann
(that I just scribbled down)
Fuck the English!
This is a variation on an early Welsh cyhydedd hir awdl
(that I just made up)
Fuck the English!
This is a reworking of an old Scottish ballad
(that I just created off the top of my head)
Fuck the English!
This is a careful reconstruction of a 14th Century French villanelle
(that I just created)
Fuck the… 
Well, who cares what the French think?


Listening to: Mission Impossible Theme – Lalo Schifrin
Mood: overall, I could be worse 

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